


Pandora's Brush

by Artemis_meets_Nefertiti



Series: Twisted Fairytales [2]
Category: The Dark Tower (2017), イケメン戦国 時をかける恋 | Ikemen Sengoku: Toki o Kakeru Koi (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dark Tower References, Death, Drama & Romance, Drawing, Evil Plans, Evil Spell, Fairy-tale, Gen, MIXED AU - borrowed theme, Magic, Mutilation, Other, Psychological Drama, Psychological Warfare, Psychosis, Vivid description of violence, War, light and dark, non-canon, other realms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25316569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_meets_Nefertiti/pseuds/Artemis_meets_Nefertiti
Summary: THIS WORK IS ONLY UPLOADED HERE AND ON WATTPAD BY ME. IF YOU SEE IT ANYWHERE ELSE, KNOW THAT MY PERMISSION WAS NOT GIVEN!Disclaimer: I do not own any of those characters. They are based on Otome game Ikemen Sengoku (as per Fandom). Any media (music/video) used are not mine, either! The only character I own is Marina Anemi.This is a story of fiction!This fairytale was inspired by a friend’s comments on one of her amazing drawings. Rui Matsumoto, thank you for the lovely idea and the permission to write it.  I hope Marina and my quill do not disappoint…If any of you read this, please use your dreamy narrative voice or all magic is gone! Maybe try lighting some candles and some lemongrass and pepper essence? This will not be your average fairytale…The song that gave birth to this fairytale can be heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRJGVSlX8c0 or in a Sting/Dalaras mix, can also be heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbXAzaN5zXA. Both were on repeat as this was written.
Relationships: Akechi Mitsuhide/Original Character(s), Soulmates - Relationship
Series: Twisted Fairytales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175486
Kudos: 6





	Pandora's Brush

**Author's Note:**

> ““A tower stands at the center of the universe  
> Protecting us from darkness  
> It is said the mind of a child can bring it down””  
> Stephen King (mixed AU - borrowed theme)

Once upon a time, in a land far-far away and an era buried by the dust and winds of the universe, where farmers would plough the land, healers would treat maladies, mothers would cook delicious meals and the Emperor would have his heart’s desire, there lived a boy. But this boy was unlike any other boy that had ever lived in that village or anywhere else! He was special! Born out of love between the sunlight and the shadows, he possessed the benefits of both. His mind hid the key to either uphold the dark tower that kept the monsters out of dreams, or demolish it for good and unleash horror upon all realms… His heart held the power to keep pushing life forward, to keep resisting evil, to strive for the light and not fear the dark. Oh yes, this was no ordinary boy at all! His hair was as silver as the brightest full moon and his eyes were made of droplets of melted gold. His skin was white and translucent like alabaster and his body would stretch like a snake. His face was breath-taking and beautiful, as if touched by the hand of El Greco on a moment of sheer maddening inspiration. He loved edgy things, silent and dark things, but most of all, he loved things that went BANG!

No-one knew how this boy arrived at the village or when. Going for work at the crack of dawn with their shovels and their pickaxes, villagers were surprised to hear baby laughter coming from the forest. They followed the noises with increasingly questioning looks. And there he was, chuckling inside a tree’s hollow, barely two years of age. Sitting on what appeared to be a white and blue blanket with a golden flower sewed on it, eating honey out of a fallen beehive. His face and fingers were covered in sweet juices and his cheeks were pink and healthy. The bees would protect him and fend off the villagers in the beginning. Finally, a brave and kind woman, a woman whose heart could melt the strongest iron, stepped forward and picked him up. He was a happy and chubby bundle of whiteness, and this woman decided to raise him as her own when he put his honeyed fingers on her cheeks, since she was not blessed with a family. And so it came to be.

The boy soon became the talk of the small village and the villagers helped the poor woman care for him, since she was living alone. He was welcome inside every household and people often looked at him just to get a sense of longing for a better future. Something about him made them hopeful that all will be well. He was a pleasant and smiling baby that grew into a gentle and loving child. His demeanor was always calm and cooperative, stemming from a deep-rooted sense of nobility and care for the fellow human. When he went out in the fields for a walk, villagers would shield their eyes, for his smile would outshine the sun! His voice, deep and sonorous, could make birds yield to his petting. He was skilled with everything he set out to do and was always willing to help anyone in need. His spirit was curious and he yearned to know the truth of all things. His favorite thing to do was read books, and, oh did he! From poetry to history, from art to literature, from fairytales to mathematical and philosophical analyses! That is why the village chose to name him Mitsuhide. Depending on which Kanji characters were used, he would be called superior, one in charge or simply light.

He often wondered about his true parents and why he looked so different. He felt there was something he was supposed to do but could not decipher what it was. He could sense it on the humming of flower petals as he walked past them, at the looks of anticipation wild animals would give him, at the sound of the light breeze on the mountaintops. Who was he? He would ask around the village and go back to the woman that raised him, his eyes masking pain, but the woman could not erase the deep-set sorrow in them, even if she wished it deeply. Or could she? There was a letter, you see. A torn parchment, its fringes almost burnt to ashes, hidden in his baby blankets. The letter was from the boy’s mother. Wherever the parchment was whole and could be read, it was muddy from her tears as she was writing it. It spoke of a kingdom hidden in the shadows. A danger! A fallen king… A legacy… A tower to keep things out… Evil that wanted in… A town in disarray, an attack! His mother crossed the perilous realms opening a portal and hid the young prince, deprived of his powers, in the human world. He was left here to be safe and hidden from his kingdom’s enemies, so that the balance of the border tower would be guaranteed. She also wrote that she would send help if she survived… But the woman raising him did not know how to read… And threw the parchment away, as if it meant nothing…  
  


  
“”And I have never in my life  
Felt more alone than I do now  
Although I claim dominions over all I see  
It means nothing to me  
There are no victories  
In all our histories, without love…””  
Sting  
  
* * *

As a teenager, he was allowed to wander off the main roads of the village on his own, so he took advantage of this privilege daily, as soon as he finished his errands of the day. He would often walk into the woods, where it was dark and cold… Following the lessening of sound, the slowly diminished light, the immobile stale air of the fallen leaves that crunched under his feet. Mesmerized by the eerie sets of red and yellow eyes watching him. Observant of how the earth took hold of the dead animals and made them part of the whole again, allowing them to feed others. Listening at the breathing of the trees, the fluttering of wing, the spell-bound silence οf no humans around. This boy, you see, was fond of all things secret, as well. Something magical inside him was calling, pulling at the strings in his heart, begging him to get lost into shady mist… Fascinated with moonless nights and skies full of clouds. Mystical whispers in locked rooms and alien creatures lurking under rocks and in icy streams. He felt a fleeting sense of home here. In the unknown dark…

When he was presented with his first riffle, Mitsuhide realized and accepted his dual nature. He would stay by the gunsmith during the day, practice loving and carving the wood, warm-up and bend the metal under his tutelage. He soon knew how deep and clean a sword would cut according to its weight, how straight and far the arrow would go based on how the wood smelled, and how big and scattered a bang the gunpowder would do depending on how black the coal was. His slender white fingers would caress each piece before assembling a true masterpiece of death. He learned all there was about fighting and even honed his own body to muscle up and be able to carry and use double swords and armor. During the night, before bedtime, he would go in the nearby ravine and practice hitting targets or moving with an edged weapon. Yes, he embraced the idea of death, of seizing to exist, if it served the common good and brought about light again. He was not afraid to kill. He cared not to die. His eyesight became so sharp, even in the darkest of corners, and his grip of a matchlock riffle so steady, that the villagers came to look up to him like their local hero. They even sewed a samurai uniform for him, all picturing both his dispositions. White and gold – for he was fair and kind-hearted and hopeful, able to tear up the clouds and bring about the sun on a rainy day. Dark blue and purple – for he was a child of shadow and his gaze could pierce the thickest and most convincing lie. He wore it proudly!

Where Mitsuhide lived, it used to be a rather big city in the past. Originally founded to support the land trading routes from places near and far away, the town was equipped with big roads, irrigation and clean water. Rice paddies and wheat fields were cultivated, livestock was raised and there was ample variety of wild fruit, rock and wood in the nearby mountainside. But times moved on, Emperors changed, and the current one, Emperor Oda, was not interested in trading through those canals and showed it long before Mitsuhide ever set foot on this realm. In fact, he created a new route, passing through towns he wanted to feature because his profits would rise out of owing businesses in those areas. He enforced tolls for imports and exports through those routes and exploited every avenue he could to control commerce. Furthermore, he invested in shipping and creating docks in distant lands that had naval capacity, so the boy’s town was reduced to a small but happy and self-sustained village. Old traders that still used land tracks would pass by their area and exchange goods, despite the Emperor’s orders. And that was what instigated retaliation from the palace…

One day, Mitsuhide wandered too far into the forest. His footsteps took him almost to the other side of it, trying to answer a call deep within his head. He could almost hear a battle… Almost smell the blood. Lost in his own thoughts of a parallel dimension, he could not have heard the disaster crashing down on his reality. That was the only excuse he kept repeating to himself later on, the only mantra he kept mumbling to keep insanity at bay. He walked too much, was too tired, it was too dark, it… he was too small, too insignificant, too useless to have helped… He heard the cries and smelled the burning flesh too late… When he ran back into his village, eyes ablaze in fear, he found an open gate to hell waiting for him. Bodies were scattered everywhere, sliced open or burned. The houses and central market were engulfed in flames. The temple demolished with the crushed skulls of the few aged monks on its bloody doorsteps. The well destroyed. Their cattle lying with their heads cut off in the middle of the square. The farms in the far eastern side gutted. People… People everywhere. Old people… Young people… Their forever open eyes like screams of horror out of a nightmare. Their stretched arms begging for salvation… Begging for him to return… Where was their hero in a time of need?

The woman that raised him was laying by the village school, cut in half. Even during her last moments, she tried to protect the sprouts, tried to protect the children. She tried… Everyone tried and screamed in agony for someone, cried for him! But he failed to listen… His heart gave a loud thud and cracked, shedding blood and a strange gold mist into the air… He looked at the Emperor’s soldiers, still laughing as they tossed dead bodies around, stepping onto broken limbs, and felt a black ink pour out of his soul… Where there was light and shadow, now black murk started covering everything! His heart smelled of decay. He felt his eyes grow cold, his body icy, his tongue burnt from smelling the ash in the air. His eyes got sharper and locks of his hair turned almost see-through white. He changed, forgetting all that was good inside him, as the black ink took up all of his soul, inch by inch. He saw the leader of the soldiers, Emperor Oda’s firstborn son. Rumors said he was as cruel as his father. Mitsuhide raised his matchlock and aimed before someone knocked him over the head with their own riffle and the world went black.

Across the realms, his mother, holding a long sword and fending off one monster after another, felt her son’s heart crack and a sharp pain blossomed in her chest, as if a spear went through it. With her breathing now compromised, she took a step back and looked around as the war was still raging. What looked like mere hours having passed since she held his chubby body in her arms, had been years on her son’s realm. He had grown. He had become skilled. He had loved. And now he had felt death for the first time and the curse found him and took hold of him. What would become of him would not be the happy baby she left in a tree’s hollow; it would become a murderous stranger. She scanned the area. Most of their soldiers had fallen on the battlefield, already dead or moaning in agony. The king was gone. Their land was already overrun by demons. It was a matter of time before she was killed, as well, and the land harvested for souls. There was no going back… Sun had been merciful, she thought. Her husband had been a proud and just king. Her son was safe up until now and there was still one last chance to save everything. Now his transformation from a warrior of light and darkness into an evil spirit had started, and she needed to act. Fast!

She looked at her general, fighting like a lion with an attitude, bloody and half-torn, swords in both hands, screaming and terrorizing the enemy! A fearless and proud warrior. She smiled. Her most trusted soldier and artist was the ablest soul in the universe; the only one for this impossible task. She needed to send the general to Earth and help her son remember and uncast the spell of evil. Her son was the child of light and dark, of her and her husband. He was the boundary between the two opposite forces, brought upon this land to uphold the frontier, to keep the balance to fight off the monsters. “Time to go! It has begun!” she whispered before looking at her most trusted vassal, who stopped fighting and went on one knee in front of her. “As my Queen commands! It has been a privilege serving you, my lady.” The queen held back her tears, looking at a face she had come to love as a child, knowing all was lost and she would never see that face again. “It was my honor to have you. Now go, Marina. Make haste! Find him! Set him free…” she said before using the last of her magic to open the portal to Earth.

Marina arrived shortly after her young lord was taken. She opened her eyes only to realize that she could no longer see through the dark of the forest as a true feline. Around her neck, her wooden and silver brush. Her magic brush, passed onto her mother’s mother’s mother’s mother by Pandora herself. She needed this brush to make the impossible possible. She rose from the flowerbed she had landed on and took a look at herself. Her clothes had not survived the trip and neither had her wings. Her hair was burnt and short. Her skin seemed almost translucent in the eerie shadows of the forest foliage. Covered in bruises and cuts from the fighting over the past hours, she ached all over. She stood up at a clearing, bathed in moonlight, and breathed the new land in. Scents of life overtook her, oh this must be the smell of newborn baby stars as they twinkle in their mothers’ golden bosoms, she thought. Her chest rose and fell, embracing human life for the first time, her hands opened as if she could hold the world’s sorrows within them. Suddenly, people’s dreams and thoughts came to her, conquered every inch of her skin. Her breathing stopped until her lips were cyan. Her chocolate eyes became wet, her tears salty and burning her cheeks like she was weeping lava. Oh the pain… The pain of this planet shot directly through her heart and she spat blood, relearning how to breathe. What had the humans done? How much death… How severe hatred! How awful vanity! What waste of love and life… She fell on her knees again, unable to swallow all this bitterness she could smell in the air… Why did her queen send her here? Was she punished? Exiled? Where was he? He who held half her nymph heart in his chest, sewn together with his dark one with in a silver and gold thread. She raised her hands in the night air and let out a scream that tore the world from its hinges momentarily. That was the moment the soldiers heard her.  
  


“”A stone’s thrown from Jerusalem  
I walked a lonely mile in the moonlight  
And though a million stars were shining  
My heart was lost in a distant planet  
That whirls around the April moon  
Whirling in an arc of sadness  
I’m lost without you…  
Lost without you…””  
Sting  
  


* * *

Nighttime cast her heavy illusion cloak across the land of humans. Men, women and children went to bed that night, blowing their candles off, not realizing they had a nymph warrior and a divine serpent among them that needed to find each other. They happily slept not knowing their safety and sanity were hanging by a thread and now, after what had happened, that thread was slowly but surely being chewed away. Dreams came that night as any night before that, speaking of goals and desires, whispering lies, singing peaceful lullabies… The spell-casting land of adventure and romance rose above the waves of sleep for one more time, and shone its lights upon humanity. Men, women and children were once again dazzled and followed what they perceived as their hearts’ longing. Left the safety of their beds and ascended into a different realm, a dangerous realm, not knowing that they were walking on someone else’s hunting grounds… Never-ever land lured them in again and made them forget that, somewhere between our darkest fears and our most secret yearnings is where the true monsters lie and wait for a chance to snatch our souls. They stepped in each dream with a smile, until the screaming of nightmares started. The hunt had once again begun…

Dreams did not come for Mitsuhide, who was lying hurt and starved on the floor of a cold cell. Semi-conscious, he was trying to remember what had angered him so, but his memory was fogged and his chest catered only hate. Awaiting his death, he did not feel the coming of his other half onto this plane of existence, nor did he sense her proximity and anguish. Despite his storyline being full of misfortunes, luck decided to offer him another opportunity to shine and threw bait at the bars of his prison. The Emperor’s son would notice his skill with the matchlock riffle. He would feel curious about his weird looks and would soon befriend him. That young prince, who shared his father’s power-hunger and adrenaline seeking, was called Nobunaga. He would gain Mitsuhide’s trust and, despite his best friend’s opposition, would soon make him his prominent general. As the years would fly, Mitsuhide would thrive in the Oda army as a spy, a torturer and a man with no morals and no empathy, at the other side of Nobunaga’s throne, respecting his lord’s wishes as much as conspiring against him. A dead man that feared nothing and would do anything; climb upon the tallest height of terror, conquer it and then use it as a weapon! That was his description, weaved like a counter-spell by the people who tried to speak of him to others. He was a hated and feared man. A man with half of his heart covered in oozing black ink and the other half rotted away; a man with a child inside him caged by darkness and ice, forgotten and alone…

Dreams did not come for Marina either. She was captured and brought to the Emperor, who had his interrogator unleash his gruesome talents on her. They soon discovered what they needed to know, amidst her chilling screams. She was not born on this land, nor was she mere human. Her translucent skin and brown eyes, moving and shifting like melted chocolate on a warm stove gave it away. Her elf-like ears and angered scars where her purple wings used to proudly open and glow testified for that, as well. She told them what she was but held the rest back, trembling in pain. His name did not escape her lips. Protecting him came naturally, like breathing in a favorite scent. They were quick to act! “Such a rare and powerful creature will be a crown jewel for a worthy Emperor!” said everyone in court, and the Emperor smiled, vain and empty like a hollow skull. As a magical being with unknown powers, she was put inside an iron prison. The Emperor had read about her species before – called a fairy here instead of a nymph – and knew that iron hurt her and she could not come close to the bars to escape. As days became months and soon years, Marina stayed in that big bird cage, located at the palace’s most beautiful garden site, surrounded by similar cages that held other imprisoned creatures. Every morning she would watch the sun rise, thinking of how terribly she failed her queen. Every evening she would feel her heart stretch and try to find him; she would call upon his white skin, his eyes of gold, his hair of moonlight thread, failing again and again. Every night she would beg the soldiers guarding the Emperor’s rarest and most precious animals to let her go, crying… She was lashed several times for disobedience, until the skin on her back came off in one big bloody mess. She never cried since that day. In fact, she never spoke another word… Not once, until… She became a bird that could not fly; a peacock without any coloring; a silent song…

The clashes and warfare between Nobunaga and his many enemies across the kingdom kept on for years. Lands were bathed in scarlet tears and soil covered thousands of fallen soldiers to satisfy their lords’ needs and adhere to their commands! Every time they mourned; yet, every time they gave a new call to arms, deaf to the cries and pleads of their people. Each of the generals and soldiers on every side kept fuming over the other. In their own twisted hearts, each wanted their homeland safe and the war to end, promising their people peace and advancement. But each had failed the test… Each had listened to the whispers in the dark. During the small hours of the morning, between sleep and wakefulness, each had dreamt about their heart’s desire, and the monsters had listened… Within that trance-like state, each was promised fame, riches, recognition, safety and prosperity of their people, technological advances, or whatever they had drawn inside their dream, whatever they lusted over… Mitsuhide kept forgetting the light and shadow that made the impossible possible to create and save him, so that he could save the rest of the realms from evil. And Marina kept withering away, alone like the child in Mitsuhide’s heart, shivering in the cold with no hope… Oh, how much more of this could her desolate heart take?

“”And from the dark secluded valleys  
I heard the ancient sighs of sadness  
But every step I thought of you  
Every footstep only you  
And every star a grain of sand  
The leavings of a dried up ocean  
Tell how much longer?  
How much longer?””  
Sting

* * * 

Mitsunari was a young librarian. Appointed to that post by Nobunaga’s right hand man, Hideyoshi, he thrived between the pages of books, reading and strategizing the next big move of the Oda army! Too lonely for his own good. Too socially awkward. Mitsunari was alone, buried in piles and piles of books, figures and words all his life. Forgotten and taken for a fool by everyone. His own family, as a cruel joke, left wet paper next to him during lunch time, for he was absent from life when he was reading. He had become ill almost as much as he had become pushed aside and forgotten. He longed for recognition and acceptance. Every day he strived to be seen, and every day he was faced with indifference… The monsters smelled his bitter tears and promised him fame and status, feeding upon his vanity. As a result, Mitsunari had become needy and had attention-seeking behavior. His skin looked like dried parchment, his cheeks were hollow and his eyes lost focus very quickly when looking at people. He was day-dreaming as he was writing the palace’s monthly reports by the bird cages, when he heard a whisper. “…Please…” the whisper said… Mitsunari jumped up and twirled around, scared to death, but found no-one! “Please, a parchment, kind sir…” the voice tried again, a bit louder, having lost its edge from being un-used. Mitsunari stood up and saw her, looking into his eyes like a beaten puppy, her hand stretched in a beggar’s posture. He walked closer to the cage. What a curious creature! Like he was under a spell, he took one piece of parchment and gave it to the weird human in the iron cage. The young librarian noticed she took a rather unique brush hidden among her hair, now long and tattered. A weird brush with an engraving of the tree of life embracing a skull… And started painting!

A city came alive on the parchment. A bizarre ancient site located in the toughest desert, desolate and burning under the unyielding sun. “Our souls are alone in the plane of existence, wandering about like particles of sand in a small storm…” the woman said. Her city was now colorful, filled with strange houses and a lake. Everything a man could dream of – by no humans were drawn! As Mitsunari was observing her movements, the air around her hummed and shifted. The city was now demolished, not a person on sight… Vultures scattered across the skies above the brittle stone. Ruins covered what was once a hidden treasure, an oasis of wonders! Colors drained onto the cage floor, dripping like blood from a wound. The woman kept drawing without any ink. Mitsunari came closer and sat by the cage, his incessant mind wanting to know how and why. The woman raised her head and looked into his eyes for what seemed like an eternity. “I shall take that nasty need to be known from you. Erase it. Let you breathe in your knowledge…” she said. Her brush touched the parchment and Mitsunari saw his face being created on the thin papyrus, twisted with a look of smugness and greed. He was afraid… But as the woman was drawing, he felt something pull on his soul. A dark essence came out of his mouth, dragged slowly as if by invisible claws, and got sealed in the paper, as the toes of her left foot disappeared. “This is your enemy, know him well and he shall never harm you…” the woman breathed with her voice barely audible. “What is your name, creature?” asked Mitsunari. “Marina” she said. Mitsunari relaxed and smiled, maybe for the first time in ages. The light of his smile shone upon two single scarlet tears down Marina’s cheeks. He stood up, dusted himself and thanked her, bowing to the ground. Ever since that day, Mitsunari was named an angel, absent-minded but honest and true to his friends, a valuable asset to the Oda army. He was never again needy of attention, for he merely had to enter a room to brighten it up…

Hearing of this story, Ranmaru and Nobunaga came to visit the weird cage with the magical creature. Nobunaga was almost consumed by greed over owing the land and its people. His monsters promised him titles, wealth, fame! They promised him to make him what his father failed to be; Truly great and remembered! Being raised by the Emperor, his ambitions were not his own anymore. A childhood filled with tutors and rules, with strict adherence to written commands that made no sense. A childhood without love and understanding, without friendship and sweetness. Now, Nobunaga was not a child. What had started as a dream to unify and make his land evolve, had become a tyrannical trap that had lured him into choking the life out of his land. His ruling was merciless, his word final and his temper legendary! He was feared rather than loved, and people were conspiring against him everywhere in the kingdom. Even his face depicted arrogance and malice. Hollowed cheeks over his high cheekbones, bloodshot eyes that measured everything by cost and profit, hands permanently balled into fists.

Ranmaru’s soul was almost eaten, as well… Torn between fatherly obligation and love, he let the monsters eat his wants up bite by bite, as long as he did not have to choose. He prayed for light, prayed until his knees would bleed and his eyes would hurt from crying, his throat sore and closed, but receive no answer, no help back. Ranmaru’s father, you see, was Nobunaga’s worst enemy. This was information very few people knew, and Ranmaru cried himself to sleep every night, praying that the day would not come that he would have to follow his fatherly command and kill his lord… For his heart was Nobunaga’s, as was his body. Ranmaru felt nailed up on a wall, cut in half, for everyone to see and mock… His father knew of the teeth sinking deep within his child’s soul, but revenge had become the outmost goal. The cage was quiet that morning, the sun almost burning the mountaintops in the East. “Well? Are you alive, still, pet? Come on! Show us what you can do! Otherwise I might have to through you to my dogs… They crave human flesh… Are you listening?” Nobunaga said, kicking at the cage bars to startle-awake Marina.

She opened her eyes and looked at both of them, but focused on Ranmaru. “Pain… Such pain and fear… Rips you apart! Hides and drains so much love for them both… Let me have the pain… It is mine to command…” she said to him and Ranmaru, mesmerized, reached out and touched her fingertips with his own, still wet from crying that morning. Marina took the tears and her brush and drew him. In her parchment, Ranmaru was taking his own life, too scared to deal with the anguish of living divided anymore. His face twisted in agony and his eyes dead and empty. Ranmaru looked at it and at her, feeling able to breathe all of a sudden, as if a spell had been undone. Marina gazed at the sun and felt chunks of her hair being pulled away from her skull and fall to the ground. “Thank you, lovely lady… “ was all he said, before Nobunaga pushed him out of the way and growled “That is ridiculous! You are supposedly an artist? That is horrific! Make my portrait, I am the Emperor!” he said, kicking the cage bars again.

Marina looked at his eyes and smiled, her cheeks tainted with red tears. “Give me a coin, great Emperor, and I shall show you true greatness, for greatness is stitched in your blood and you were truly born to lead…” Confused, he obliged, tossing the coin on the floor in front of her feet like he would do to a leper. Marina took the coin and, with it, she drew all the misplaced ambition and overboard cruelty of that man. She could see him growing up at the shadow of a king. The faded away relationships, the lies, the torture of obligation, the lost dreams of his own, all sacrificed on the altar f his father’s command. She could see the little curious mind of a child that was squashed under the mountain of greed. His soul was clawed to shreds and there was little left for her to salvage. She drew his face evil, devouring a piece of land. His elongated teeth pierced through the earth in her drawing and the parchment bled. The air moved again and she took a deep breath, allowing a sob to pass her lips. Three of her fingers disappeared and more bloody tears ran down her cheeks. She spat blood onto the parchment that was quickly absorbed by her magic. When she looked up at him, she could see a younger face, a more open and honest one. He kneeled down and looked at the imprisoned creature, feeling the dread of years being lifted. Feeling his chest able to stretch and breathe again. Feeling free to make his dream come true and truly lead his people. “Thank you…” he said to Marina. “I don’t know how you did it, but you did it! Thank you…” Ranmaru, free from doubt and fear, went on his knees next to him and touched his hand. Nobunaga was startled as he turned to his beloved. Their eyes met. Both made new again. Nobunaga squeezed Ranmaru’s hand and started crying all the lost years into battles and bitterness. He cried until the sun set, but he cried in Ranmaru’s lap, outside his prisoner’s cage. Marina was transferred in her own room by the garden the very next day, now missing an entire hand… 

“Preposterous, ridiculous and utterly absurd!” was Ieyasu’s reaction to the news about the woman that could take away your worst burden and fear and create a painting to seal it into! It was a sensible, albeit over the top, reaction from the castle’s physician towards magic. “No-one in their right mind should listen to such madness! I propose a swift execution of Mitsunari for spreading the rumor or at least rip his tongue out, and a beheading of that poor creature, as well! Logic needs to prevail! Kill her!” he said. Ieyasu was one of the monsters’ victims from a young age. Alone, unreasonably proud and hurt inside his monk’s room as a precious hostage for his family’s safety and land expansion, his soul yearned to be enclosed in a tower so high that nothing painful and weak could ever climb up and claim it again… Ieyasu’s tower was built brick by brick from isolation, mockery, torture and forgetting. His heart lived inside an oubliette, starved and barely moving. Bile and malice were his communication tools, and he used them often to hurt people and keep them away. No-one was allowed in! No-one worthy enough! For his fear of getting hurt was too great to measure… Ieyasu would bite down his fingers and hands to suppress the screams bubbling in his throat as the monsters would come to feed on him night after night, promising to make him stronger. Able to forget and move on, carrying his fortifications with him until he perished…

Hideyoshi listened to him, feeling panic overwhelm him. A double bloody massacre on castle grounds in midday, without his lord’s approval? Without paperwork and official stamps? Rules, regulations, safety, accident reports, rioting villagers, his lord’s hate and dismissal, all possible images of disaster passed through his mind, creating chaos and terror. Hideyoshi’s curse was utter and absolute fear of everything that might go wrong at any given moment in time. He would either freeze or become something fiercer than a tyrant, to protect everyone from everyone, to the point of suffocation! Since he was little, growing up in utter poverty and constant hunger, he was found by the monsters scavenging for food at the Emperor’s back alley. The monsters took his hand, led him in the courtyard and promised him never to be hungry again… Never to feel desperate, like a carcass of a man left for a death meal to the vultures. The monsters promised him freedom for all, as long as they adhered to the rules… Rules and regulations… So many, dizzying up him mind until he became phobic of every wrong turn, every choke, every rainfall, every sharp rock. Everything became potentially dangerous… Now, he ran after Ieyasu to restrain him, yelling for help along the way!

Ieyasu burst into Marina’s room brandishing a knife in front of him, his eyes flashing with hate. Hideyoshi tried taking the knife away, but Ieyasu sliced his palm open and turned towards the woman. She was sitting on her bed and, once looking at Ieyasu, simply opened her arms while remaining calm. He stopped and lowered his weapon. Slowly, as if every movement hurt, he walked to her and looked at the drawing with the three faces drawn already. “You do not need to fight anymore, for love has come to find you. Give me the knife…” the female said, and Ieyasu did as he sat next to her and watched her draw his face fuming and spitting saliva, screaming in rage up on a castle window. He felt as if he was sliced open, a septic piece of flesh was cut off him and he was stitched back together again. It took him several tries to breathe with ease and he looked at the darkness over the drawn face on the window, like massive clouds gathering. Then, he stood up and took a piece of cloth from his pocket and dried the two rivulets of blood down the female’s cheeks before giving her a kiss on the forehead. “You are too close to her! She may be dangerous! She can easily be a criminal, a monster, a-“ said Hideyoshi before he felt Marina’s hand on his. He froze again, but before his mind could formulate the pictures related to his panic, he heard her sweet voice. “Let go, sweet one. Just let go. I will be your fear, I will heal your heart.” Indeed, taking droplets of his blood and spreading them onto the parchment, her brush created a man that looked like Hideyoshi, but was pulling the hairs out of his scalp, blood running down his face. His eyes were gouged out and his teeth were broken and rotten from clenching his jaw. Seeing that, Hideyoshi felt an internal slap that shifted his gravitational pull and made him reconnect to life. A loud gasp was heard, as Ieyasu was supporting him, his face open and surprised, but for the first time calm. They left that room as new men, unburdened, free and able to pursuit happiness, while Marina lost all her hair and her left arm disappeared. Despite it all, she smiled pleased.

Days later, two men entered her chambers, almost crawling. Both men looking at the floor, both men seeming as if the brush that made them had not finished yet or got bored in the process. They lacked any distinctive smell, any color, any real will to live. They looked like shadows, both of them. Angry and depressed shadows; barely alive because their lords wished them to be… Still standing to serve a purpose. Bound by contracts and invisible chains to make other men’s dreams a reality… Never their own… Both men came close to the bed and laid their foreheads to the floor, abandoned to their fate, at her feet. Not speaking… Not moving… Marina went on her knees in front of them and took each face in her right hand, lifting it off the ground. She studied them both. The silver and the raven, the light and the shadow. Kyubei and Kojuro awaited their doom. They had nothing to offer, for not even their lives felt like their own. Convinced by the monsters that their worth was less that a spot of wine on a clean shirt, they walked in her bedroom half-dead and vanishing. “I shall kiss it and make it all better, for you both are like lit candles inside dark rooms, like the secret spice to make the recipe tasteful, like honey to sweeten the wine…” she said and stole a kiss from each set of lips. Then, she turned and laid her lips on the brush and drew them both on the parchment like wraiths. Their only distinctive feature was their hair, since all other details were lost. Just like their souls were about to be, but now were saved and claimed from the monsters. Both men took a long and painful breath and lift their heads high feeling a surge of hope inside them. They stood, bowing to Marina, who now had patches of skin missing from her body and two bloody tears running down her cheeks, and left the room chatting away about their future plans.

Rumors of her powers spread. Nobunaga changed after that day, and the kingdom saw the Emperor finally stop and listen. To their needs, their wants, their pleas for peace that he, too, strived to achieve now. He even extended an invitation to his enemies, asking them to visit him in the palace for discussions regarding a treaty beneficial to all. It took several weeks for this plan to happen. Everyone was distrustful of this change, and the enemy forces were under the same spells that had previously burdened Nobunaga’s land. Finally, as Marina was getting weaker and was wearing ornate head scarfs to hide the loss of hair every day, the Takeda-Uesugi army came inside their borders and settled on the castle grounds. The town was alive under the promise of truce, and people from all over the land started exchanging goods and kind words, even though they were discreet and nervous at the beginning. The rumors about the magical fairy that could literally draw your worst fear onto her painting and change you started as a whisper, but soon became the main theme passing through everyone’s lips, like a mantra or a spell that brought about hope and peace. That was what drew the snake out…

Mitsuhide walked outside her room one day, as the sun was setting, curious about her looks and powers. He had heard all sorts of peculiar comments from his ‘friends’. Mitsunari was smiling, Nobunaga was now magnificent and a true leader, Ranmaru was the epitome of goodness and Hideyoshi was calm like the sea on a hot summer day. Ieyasu had sweetened up. The land was healing, the people were singing. Even Kyubei and Kojuro were happier and more in-tune with their goals and their surroundings. Walking up to the trees outside her veranda door, he hid and waited patiently. A million stars lit up, as if an invisible hand took a candle and swept the evening sky. The night flowers slowly and bashfully opened their arms and spread their gorgeous aromas in the sweet breeze. Everything around him spelled magic in the air, as if an artist had painted the whole picture to capture him. The view of her garden was breathtaking, but Mitsuhide did not care for all that…

For she was standing naked, just having finished her bath and was now drying her hair. Even though she was an incomplete human, with parts missing and scars everywhere, Mitsuhide saw what his heart chose to reveal. He saw her whole, perfect and beautiful, with glorious wings made of ice crystals and a long feline tail. He saw a golden thread stem from inside her, weaving an invisible line between them. The same golden thread that was left on his clothes from his mother. The same emblem now decorated his chest plate. He looked down and saw the line pierce his heart, and leave traces of color everywhere it touched him. A hint of purple… A shadow of blue… A kiss of silver… And the red… Oh the red, like diving inside a pool of blood, it exploded inside him and made his heart pump for the first time in years! Black started to recede slowly, and Mitsuhide realized, just for a glimpse of a breath, what he could have had if he had not allowed the black ink to enter… He saw himself with a pistol in each hand, fighting of monsters, protecting the Tower that never fell. A proper hero to everyone, a king to many, a leader worthy to follow into hope and dream alike! He got so terrified, so confused, so disgusted of what she showed him, that he ran away, never to come back… But Marina’s heart gave a silent thud in return, and she smiled before going to bed that night.  
  


””… I walked a lonely mile in the moonlight.  
And though a million stars were shining  
my heart was lost on a distant planet  
that twirls around the April moon  
whirling in an arc of sadness…  
I’m lost without you…  
Lost without you…””  
Sting

  
* * *

All the enemy troops and warlords were settled by the end of next month in the kingdom. They were expecting to find a desolate place starved from hunger and war, but found a happy prosperous beehive, instead. All over the city, from its reinforced solid walls to its fruitful orchards and bountiful granaries, people were talking about the change in their king, brought about by an artist! The residents were so glad and proud of her, that the other artist in the group got interested. Nay, he got madly jealous! Yoshimoto, once a famous and very talented musician, painter and performer, shot daggers every time someone else was mentioned over him. Vanity, one of the deadliest of sins, was eating his insides raw and he was feeling the scorching flames of envy sizzle and roast him. The monsters were having a proper feast with this one, for his talent was truly limitless, and so was their curse. He walked into Nobunaga’s hearing chambers and demanded a contest with his pet artist. Nobunaga tried to explain the seriousness of her ill health and need for isolation, but Yoshimoto simply walked out of there and straight into the palace gardens and her room, with Oda soldiers running after him in a futile attempt at stopping him. No one could restrain him in time, though. He found her by the pond, feeding the fish. He tried grabbing her from her hands, but realized she was short one, so he lifted her off the bench by her waist. “This pathetic half-breed is your famous artist? She is nearly dead! She is no match for me! No match for my glorious talent, she is nothing, she-“ he yelled, his tone a furious lash in her face, when he looked into her eyes and forgot how to speak for a while. Marina looked into his face and smiled. “Let it go… The burden… the anguish… the heavy load of a ton of awkwardly cut rocks you carry of always being at the top, of always leading others, of always succeeding and being the best… Let it go, beloved, your soul is a colorful bird yearning to fly free and create… You were meant to make the world a better and more colorful place. Do not imprison your essence with earthly obstacles. Do not sadden your beautiful eyes, for my heart aches for you… Give me a lock of your hair…” she whispered, almost to his lips.

Yoshimoto gently lowered her by her parchment and obliged, almost tearing some hairs off his head and giving them to her. Marina weaved them in her brush and painted him on the tallest mountaintop in her sand-caressed ruins. He was painting a self-portrait, and the portrait was painting a self-portrait. There was no stop to the stream of portraits in her parchment, and the artist was slowly being burned alive under the noon sun. She weaved the never-ending madness of perfection out of his insides, blended it with her painting, as bloody tears ran down her cheeks, and one of her feet disappeared as they were watching her. Now, the immortal loop of torture was sealed away, and Yoshimoto was weeping for her, for he could see her true beauty. He could see all beauty again! He was free to create and marvel in others’ creations! He turned to Marina and went on his knees in front of her. He could see the pain and slow death she took upon herself, only to help others. The proud man bowed to the ground, his forehead touching the toes on her right foot, and then took her hand and kissed it as he rose. “There are no words for what you do… My glorious language fails me… Only my heart can celebrate and mourn at the same time, for I have been blessed to be touched by you… You have my gratitude, my lady…” he said, before letting her rest.

Motonari was hiding close by, waiting for him to leave before making his move. He was determined to snatch Nobunaga’s precious pet and either use her as leverage, or, better yet, torture her in the town’s open market and let everyone despair and wail at the loss of their jewel! Motonari, a pirate outcast stripped of all privileges and rights from his clan, was the first soul the monsters claimed as their hunting and feeding ground when Mitsuhide’s heart let the tower unmanned and created the portals. His bottomless pit of anger was all the fuel they needed to lure him into bringing them more victims to sink their teeth in! And he obliged, time and time again, bathed in blood, screaming in rebellious croaks as he sacrificed to his heart’s wishes! They did not promise him anything in return but a goal, a purpose. They promised him to make him a living nightmare, a befitting role for a man no one wanted. So he surrendered the reigns to his own soul’s monster and made the world his personal killer playground.

Stealthily, he approached behind her back. Nothing moved, no sound escaped him. He reached his hands to grab her when she spoke. “I can smell death on you, friend. I can feel the scream of a thousand victims echoing from your own lips. I can taste the blood and tears. I can read in the beats of your tired heart that this is not you. You never wanted this; you were shoved in a small box never fitting your true calling.” He growled and pulled her over the bushes, shoving a small blade in her abdomen. His frustration and wrath bubbled inside him. Who was she? How dared she? How could she know? “You smell like defeat, friend. This is not you… You were born to conquer the wildest waves, tame the saltiest seas, configure the earth’s journey around the sun, hunt the world’s secrets and explore… You were born free… Why put chains on your wrists when they were created to lead the way for others?” He looked at her. Her blood was slowly seeping through the cloth, his hands convulsed around the hilt, his inner demons urging him to do it, but her voice had undone him. He remembered, long before the dark clouds had descended upon his head and taken over, his mother’s face. Eyes brown like the ones looking at him now, her smile gentle, her open arms always comforting. His mother believed in him, always believed in him!

“Give me a hug like the ones you gave your mother. Allow your hands to embrace a warm body instead of death. Let me have the suffering and all the wasted years that follow it. And I shall offer you life…” Marina said and opened her arms for him. He gazed at her eyes, the monsters inside him screaming for her chopped head! He tried twisting the knife to end her, but could not. In the end, he drew his blade out and let it fall on the ground, droplets of her blood now decorating the soil. He slowly touched her, afraid of hurting her. Delicate, so delicate was she that his fingertips pittipatted on her back like butterflies, until she was enveloped in his arms. He felt... Taller, somehow. Fuller… Protective of her. Prouder, a better man for he had a goal now! He almost felt possessive, but sighed as he kissed the top of her head. “Ay, lass… I…” Marina smiled and went to her parchment. On the sand, her brush created a huge ship. The anchor was diving into the dunes and the sails were torn and almost gone. The wood was decaying and the carved skull in its bow was Motonari’s skull, rotting away sealed in her abandoned nightmare of a painting. His curse was now on the ship’s deck, many miniscule black men running about before his eyes, as his dead self finally released him into life. Motonari left Nobunaga’s gardens with a new shiny purpose, like a new astrolabe, in his mind. He needed to break the horizon and find the world’s limits, and then break them, too! Marina slowly fell on the ground, her cheeks red from her tainted tears, her wound never to close again, for she had lost her immortality and half her eyesight.

Some days later, the palace’s corridors leading to Marina’s room and attached garden were filled with joyous laughter and girly giggling. Shingen was parading his endless stream of male and female conquests, feeding them sweets. Upon hearing from Yoshimoto, who was now serene and his face let the internal light shine through as he spent his mornings reading and writing poetry, that there was a fair maiden in the grounds that had not yet begged for his affections, he decided to conquer her! Lustful and hollow, Shingen’s curse was to have his bed filled, his body ravaged and his chest empty. Spider webs and abandoned seashells inhabited the place where his heart used to beat strong when he dreamed of a better future for his homeland. Now, he was the personification of debauchery and sin, spending his nights in a crowd of longing hands and mouths, feeling like nothing touched him. All his life since he was captured by the monsters, he felt as if he was watching everything behind a looking glass. He was trying to find something, someone to connect, desperately reaching his hands out and touching nothing but iced air. Forever thirsty for another, forever hungry and forever denied… He bedded literally hundreds of people, and never found one soul to claim as his own…

Yukimura was running after the enamored troupe, his spear in hand, his anger making him huff and puff at all the women that drooled over his lord. Disgusted by female contact and by Shingen’s shameless acts, he tried protecting him while despising everything about him at the same time. Dichotomous and suspended, like a piece of amber tied to a thin rope above the abyss, oscillating between the two shores of duty and hate. Yukimura was lost… The monsters found him one day crying, alone and shaking in the middle of a battle field, and entered through his tears, slowly making their way into his soul. The gaping, bleeding wound in his heart from killing a man still raw as his hands were tightening their grip on his spear. Shingen, still untouched back then, took him under his wing. Shortly after, the monsters spoke of weak people, and especially women. Weak, useless, worthless people that needed sorting out. Spineless, heartless women that would lead his only father figure to death sooner! Pitiful mortals that danced an ancient mating ritual, forever unsatisfied, forever vulgar and despised. Yukimura took it upon himself to rescue Shingen from it all, and built a maze for them both. Now, Shingen could get momentarily distracted but not lost, whereas Yukimura was lost… He could never find a way out of the dark maze… Out of hate…

They arrived in the gardens accompanied by a crowd of fans, but the female was nowhere to be seen. Yukimura ran into her chambers. She was lying on the cold floor, her wound bleeding, touching her parchment. He walked close to her and growled “Hey, you dead yet?” Weak… She was so weak he could feel bile coming up his mouth at the sight of this sorrowful excuse of a human! She was not even whole! He kicked her lightly with his leg, not wanting to kill her and make the peace offering disappear, and Marina groaned. “Hmf, die already! Rot away! My lord should not have to lay his eyes upon you! You are disgraceful!” he said as he turned to leave. Then, he felt her hand on his boot, scraping away a piece of his covering. She drew in silence. Yukimura tried to leave. He commanded, forced, even begged his feet to start moving, but he felt as if he had roots that stopped his every move, binding him on that spot. Marina drew him in his maze, locked in a silver cage in the center of it. His head deformed from banging on the bars, his hands almost torn away from scratching on its floor. A scrap of madness, sealed away in her painting. Yukimura looked down and saw black fog oozing out of his legs. When it was gone, green threads came out of his feet and grew outward and downwards, forming roots. As Shingen walked in laughing, he saw his roots connect to his lord’s burnt ones, and his eyes finally open to the exit of the maze whose walls crumbled around him. Shingen was his future and past, his legacy to carry on, his inspiration. His eyes filled with tears as his heart did with love and the hate receded in a corner of the room, unwanted. He looked at Shingen’s eyes and found nothing looking back at him.

“Ah, Yuki! What have we here? Oh, lord of sweet buns and heavenly beauty, what is that thing? Is that even alive? Yuki, have you killed it? Such ugliness disrupts my aesthetics! Where is the fair maiden after my heart, hmm? Where is the one too shy to confront her feelings and hunt me down?” he asked, joking casually with his troupe of admirers fanning around him. He shot one glance at Marina, now looking like a deformed and misshapen person at Yukimura’s feet, and gagged. He took two steps closer to kick her himself, but Yukimura took hold of his bicep and held him back. “Let…her…be…” he said, anger flaring inside him, mixed with guilt for he, too, had treated her awfully just mere moments ago. “Do not touch her… Do not dare…” he said, pushing him back with some force. Shingen was shocked. Never before had he seen this kind of fire in Yukimura’s eyes. He snorted and spat on Marina, who looked up at him. Shingen felt as if he had just bitten a live wire with his teeth. His core shook and shifted at the same time that Yukimura slapped him hard. As his head was buzzing from the force of the blow, Marina painted Shingen using only dots on her parchment. Dots, dots, dots everywhere, vaguely resembling his beautiful face and glorious figure, but no context, no flesh, nothing inside. Shingen felt his insides turn and shift, before re-settling like dust particles.

The pain concentrated on his heart, as it drew blood from the roots he shared with Yuki. Marina’s voice echoed inside his void chest, moving the empty shell as it hit the bare walls and returned. “My lord… Your heart is bigger than the world’s hope for peace. Warmer than the sun in mid-August in Greece. Beats louder than a child’s laughter when his mother tickles them. Do not fear… Do not shun your heart, for it is worthy of loving this wretched place that was abandoned to the monsters. Your heart can teach other hearts to truly cherish one another. What a rare gift you have… Use it…” Slowly, almost as if being terrified to beat, his heart wobbled and started moving in his chest. Moments passed like sand through an hourglass, and next time Shingen looked at Yukimura, his eyes were more real and misty. “Son…” he whispered before he pulled the other man into his arms and kissed his forehead tenderly. Finally, they had found their roots together and all they had to do was bloom! Marina smiled, her eyes crying red tears again, as both her feet were now gone. Shingen took her in his arms lovingly and enjoyed a long stroll with her out in the gardens, whispering poem verses and song lyrics in her ear, before letting her rest on her bed at sundown. The last time Shingen looked at her, she was the most wonderful woman he had ever seen. “Whoever has your heart must truly be the luckiest and most worthy man alive… We are in your debt, fair lady…” he said before leaving.

The next morning proved to be quite an adventurous one! “Lord Kenshin… Lord Kenshin, please!” Sasuke tried restraining his lord, but to no avail. Kenshin was slashing stone walls, plants and everyone he met as he was walking, boiling like a volcano about to erupt! He paced up and down the big training grounds but nothing seemed able enough to stop his wrath from burning a path from him to Marina, the root of all his troubles! He was going to kill her and end this ridiculous lack of bloodshed and chaos! He needed death to feel alive! Red mist, torture, beheadings, clash, weapons against weapons, entrails, souls escaping! The monsters demanded it! “How dare she! Women should know their place, Sasuke! This one’s specifically is under my boot, preferably not breathing! I shall have my war! I WANT MY WAR!” he screamed as he ran into the garden that the witch – as far as he was concerned – lived. Kenshin’s past left nothing to chance. His violent and traumatic experiences opened a door in his mind, where another type of monster lived. Having gone through too many loses too soon, Kenshin’s mind became attached to madness, feeding on it like a newborn dragon. That insanity, in conjunction with the evil that had taken over the world, created a hybrid psychosis that made him believe he was the reincarnation of a god, and that men owed him their lives. As a result, he fanaticized his troops into bringing him the heads of their enemies, which decorated his castle’s walls, slowly disintegrating in the breeze and spread disease around them. He demanded sacrifice to keep bestowing his power onto the army, and many lives were lost in the battle field due to him. Now, his most trusted vassal, Sasuke, was trying to stop him from committing a mistake. But nothing worked.

Sasuke was a mystery to this land, too, for his past was not known to anyone, including him. The monsters found him walking half-naked near a temple one day, his clothes shredded and his skin scorched. His memory was gone, his mind was slowly swimming away, and his reflexes were dulled. He could not remember who he was or where he came from. He ended up saving lord Kenshin’s life by accident, and was bound to follow his every whim ever since. The monsters did not need to play with his mind to break Sasuke. For he was a rather weird one and he was left mostly alone, scraping at the table of life for nurturance and truth. Lord Kenshin’s death-wish and torture to anyone around him was punishment enough, and they fed on his despair and agony… Kenshin had personally honed Sasuke’s skills to the point of near perfection, and his body reacted to every petite movement his master made with impossible agility and precision. Today, he entered the roof hollows and half-ran / half-crawled to the lady’s room, to avoid unnecessary death.

Marina took one look at him, as she was sitting on the windowsill and smiled. “Hello, brother. Fancy meeting you here. I knew someone else was sent before me. Where were you all these years?” Sasuke looked at the almost eradicated body of what seemed like a female, and went blank. Her voice… Something about her voice resonated with a part deep within him. A hidden, mutilated part that almost felt unreal… A secret part… He walked closer and sat next to her. For the first time in his life that he could remember, Sasuke did something lord Kenshin had not previously ordered. He reached his hand and touched her cheek, to dry her tears. A door opened in his mind, and the night breeze stormed in, carrying the sea’s waves and the sun’s rays with it. Carrying childhood dreams of long wings and flying higher than the rainbow. Carrying millions of stars swimming in a black ocean and a wish to touch each and every one of them. He remembered! Oh, did he remember… He started convulsing and spitting foam, his human body too fragile and weak to take up the task of immortality. Marina quickly took some of his foam and drew him impaled by Kenshin’s sword during target practice. His eyes, lifeless in her drawing, absorbed the spell that kept his memory at bay. He shook, twisted, writhed on the floor, until the door burst open and Kenshin came in, screaming at her for killing his vassal!

Amidst his wrath, Kenshin threw his sword at her and it dived right into her shoulder and practically nailed her to the wall. Kenshin was cussing and spitting as he went to choke her, but… The moment he touched her skin, time stopped and held its breath, watching them. He was a tough one to help. Marina felt one of her eyes burst and dry out, following her lower body almost gone now, and she touched Kenshin’s forehead with her own. “It’s in here, isn’t it? The pain… The memories… The door that opened to hell… And you have been walking alone in its path for so long. No, precious. No… No more… I shall close that door, as I opened his, and set you free. No more walking barefoot on acidic glass. No more scratching the soles of your feet until you find a cure. I shall be your medicine.” She held his hand in hers and Kenshin let a sough escape his lips, almost a sob. Marina took his sob and let it fly onto her parchment. The brush moved on its own, driven by her strong spirit. Now Kenshin’s heterochromatic eyes burned red from the parchment, as he was bound inside an asylum cell. No light reaching him, no hope. Silently, Kenshin lifted his head up and kissed her forehead, eyes and red-wet cheeks. Then, he screamed a wounded, pain-filled echo of his life out his chest, as he pulled his sword off her and held her in his arms. “I… I am so… sorry!” he said. Morning found him sleeping by her feet, serene and ready to sign the peace treaty and go home to rebuild. For now, he has his own miracle maker. Sasuke had claimed back his legacy and the ancient scrolls of his people would help bring change in this realm, too.

The next night, a monk came to visit her. After being pressured into signing the peace treaty, he craved to meet Nobubnaga’s witch. With a golden staff in his hand that hid a knife inside it’s long body like the hint of a broken promise in the first “I love you”, he entered through the door. His spirit shone all around him, like a halo of an angel. But this was no angel, with the face sliced in the middle like a dichotomous beach in winter time, and Marina was no fool. He walked in her room and found a torso and a head, a right arm, one eye. He laughed at her suffering, unmoved by the sight, contemplating on how to kill her. He, who used to heal all living creatures and take away suffering. He, who felt in tune with the universe’s secret sighs and silent moans once upon a time. He, who in the past was able to read the pain in another’s eyes and sincerely offer peace of mind and body. He, who had helped bring so many into the light, happily embracing their new existence. Kennyo dragged his feet in her room and sat by her side. Marina’s one eye looked at him and saw the devil horns, the bat wings, the claws, the teeth that were piercing his cheeks. She saw what others missed. As he cleared his throat to speak, she reached her hand and took his. Then, as if he still were a priest, she kissed his hand and put it on her head.

“Time to speak of forgiveness, priest.” Her voice barely a whisper. Kennyo looked at her and she saw the mockery of the monsters that dwelled inside him. The anger, the need for revenge, the sinister evil darkness. The starless, bottomless pit of throbbing ache he was swimming against. Each and every death of his comrades like a bulk made of steel, tied to his feet, dragging him down. Every day Kennyo tried to swim to the surface. Every moment of his existence, weighing the deaths of so many against his twisted, sadistic, crazy idea of justice. And each death of his monks drowning him. His soul was condemned to die each second, for all eternity. And he had asked for this punishment, for he had failed them all. “Holy men do not wear chains and do not carry burdens, priest. Holy men wear their scars proudly, for they have helped save many. Holy men walk the path alone, never tired, never in pain, for they are protected by the divine. Holy men fly. Run. Smile. Love. Live free. Help! They do not seek revenge… They do not claim lives. Your sword does not become you. Give me your staff, priest. Time to be enrobed in holy light again and walk the path, to lead others onto it. Time to heal. Time to be forgiven…” she said.

Kennyo tried to speak, to stand up, to fight, to leave. Nothing happened. He felt each soul he was carrying being separated by his core in long, painful flayings while dripping blood and bile on the floor. Each one of his brethren left his soul’s torture chamber and stood around him. Hundreds of white lights now filled the room, lending Marina’s brush the energy to paint him tied down with barbed wire on a burning bed, with people around him testing their sick devices on him. When the last person left his body, Kennyo felt as if he weighed nothing, his soul could finally breathe. His eyes regained their sight, and he saw the path he had abandoned what felt like eons ago. He saw redemption. Her pity and honest love gave him strength to kneel and ask for forgiveness… As Marina’s voice was slowly sucked away and her face became less discernible, Kennoy’s face became clearer. As she wept tears of blood, now constantly in pain, his sorrow and anguish were stopped. Shaking, trembling, in awe, he asked for forgiveness from her, as well, and he was, indeed, forgiven and allowed to walk the path again.

  
“”They say a city in the desert lies  
The vanity of an ancient king  
But the city lies in broken pieces  
where the wind howls and the vultures sing…””

Sting

* * *

As the peace was about to be celebrated in a feast never before experienced by the loyal subjects of the new Kingdom, the palace’s kitchen was not a happy place. Masamune was the head-chef of the palace, bold and arrogant, to the point of being accused of almost forcing himself to others too often, having lost one eye during an intensely violent fight in his teen years. He was a fierce Oda general, lost to the monsters because he was afraid… Deadly afraid of death… He came off as pretentious and demanding, only because he was trying to push the inevitable moment away! Always loud and roaring like a wild tiger, as was his nick-name in the places he used to hang. When Masamune entered the battlefield, his men almost went rioting and the enemies would cower under their cries of unstoppable force. Masamune’s thirst for life, love, good food and intense feelings to the point of manic episodes where he could not see the danger ahead, were always followed by weeks of endless panic and head-dives into choking ideas about painful and humiliating deaths. These extreme highs and lows opened him up to the monsters who, after one such episode, pierced his arms and legs with puppet strings and promised him escape from death. As long as he was theirs to control and order, he would be driven away from death, never alone again, never abandoned.

With everyone changing around him and with war starting to look a distant and distasteful thing of the past, Masamune’s monsters were fuming. They were close to being afraid of an empty shell of a person! That mess of bones and flesh that could still draw breath was very close at destroying millennia of waiting in the shadowy corners of human perception. Endless years of plotting against good, light and their protective shadows were about to be flushed down the drain. Hundreds of stake outs and waiting without stop. Thousands of carefully set and precisely organized events were to be cancelled and that brat could overturn their reign! No, this was not to happen under any circumstances! She needed to be swiftly and decisively silenced, for all was about to be lost! Queen Light’s and King Shadow’s son was to never be allowed to take matters into his own hands. That could dictate doom for evil and a new opportunity for prosperity for the humans. Their hunting and feeding grounds were about to vanished and they would be banished to the outskirts of existence once more, begging for a hint of fear or malice to feed upon.

Masamune decided to pay the woman a visit and end her suffering. As he walked into her room, he saw her maimed body under the covers. “What I can see there is not enough for a human to survive, let alone threaten us… What are you?” he asked, disgust plain in his voice, as it was ordered by the monsters that were still ruling him. Marina turned her head his way, her breathing wheezing, and met his one-eyed gaze with her own. But where he sent rage and blackness her way, her one shifting dark chocolate eye had only reassurance. One look at him, that gorgeous mess of a wild cat, and she figured it out. Her mind spoke to his. “Fear is for the weak. Fear leads and rules those that do not climb the tallest mountains armed only with their claws. Terror kills only those that do not face a thousand foes baring only their teeth. Anguish is for the frail-minded that have not sucked on the marrow of life and found it lacking in taste, only to spice it up and make it unique. You are truly a comet. And comets clash and burn and create new cosmos. Do not fear to become the matter of a new Era, for you are needed to create, discover and lead. Death is but the beginning for a soul as ancient as yours.” Her right arm moved and drew Masamune diving off a cliff and getting sliced into millions of pieces on the rocks that stood out. His pieces in her parchment would rot, while his would live on and reunite with the universe when the time came.

Masamune stood there, unable to comprehend. He frowned and gulped. Feeling torn from inside out, as if a battle was happening within him, he fell on all fours and held his head, trying to stop it from exploding. His breathing became faster, to the point of nearly hyperventilating. His heart was beating so fast that he thought it was looking for an escape! He opened his mouth to speak, but what came out of it was not related to human language, nor would it ever relate. A very loud, proud roar was heard, making the paper walls shake as if their foundations were threatened. The roar made by those that rule without needing the title to do so. Inside his chest, a yellow and blue eye opened. The eye of a feline, an ancient warrior, an untamed beast of old. Sniffing the air inside his master, he hissed at the evil shadows, revealed teeth longer than any mammal had seen since the first ice age. He slashed the puppet strings with two flicks of his nails and sat down on his master’s soul. The guardian was in place. And what better man could Mitsuhide choose as his friend than another King that knew how to fight and win? Masamune realized he was sent here to guard the new King, and had just accepted this duty when the door crumbled open.

Mitsuhide, fearing for his friend’s mental state, entered the room just when the transformation had taken place. The man that stood up and faced him was unknown to him, and Mitsuhide stepped back, with his hand on the hilt of his matchlock rifle. But Masamune moved faster than the human eye could see and slapped his hand away. Before Mitsuhide could speak, Masamune pushed him onto the bed and shot a warning look on him. Then, he dried Marina’s tears with his sleeve and left the room, walking towards life – the greatest adventure of them all, and leaving them alone at last.

Marina gazed up at Mitsuhide and, for the first time, could not speak, for her heart had stopped to gaze upon her other half lovingly. The only thing visible now was her face and right hand that was holding the brush. She knew her duty and had accepted her fate when she agreed to this. The only thing she faintly felt sorrow for was not being able to resign in his arms just once. Just for the space of a heart-beat, just for a fleeting chance at love and happiness. Mitsuhide looked at her, his eyes empty, their gold shine gone. He raised his pistol without any second thought or remorse and shot at her face. Even as she felt the explosion inside her skull, and the pain was perilously close to ending her life, Marina inhaled and held her breath. Her magic stopped time and the creature inside her arose from her shattered face and observed. Even like this, even during this state of utter suffering, her hand had drawn him on her parchment. Taking his bullet as a relic, she had put his face on the paper. He was lying in a pool of dark bile, drowning in his own doubts and fears, his face and skin swollen from sepsis. Monsters were devouring every inch of him and he seemed to be spent in an eternal scream of agony. But it was all over now. The spell was complete, the prophecy was about to come true. The parchment started to burn until only feather-like traces were left. The world’s fate was sealed and, once again, safe.

Marina turned and looked at her shell and Mitsuhide on the bed. Her existence was one breath away from being expended and his was about to be re-born. She stepped close to him, a creature of perfect white glowing skin, long purple hair, cat ears and a long fluffy tail. Her wings barely fit inside the big room and reflected all emotions felt in the world at any given time; each having its own tint. She sat in his lap, translucent and created of mist and not matter, took his head in her hands and kissed his lips. She kissed him as any man adored by a woman is to be kissed. She kissed him, breathing in his lemongrass and pepper scent that dominated her dreams and fantasies for ages. She kissed him, finding the ink inside him and eradicating it, allowing his soul to fly. Her lips offered him warmth unlike any human could possess, and that warmth redrew his features into his mother’s Light legacy. She licked his lips and his father’s Shadow returned to add definition to his perfect face. Caressing him, she marveled at how soft and cool his skin was.

She stood up and looked at the human encasing that used to be her. All her drawings passed before her eyes and she realized with a faint smile that she was helping mankind all along. Mitsuhide’s work would be easier now. She took off her ring – his mother’s ring – and left it in his hand. Her heart ached now, but she had no regrets. Singing a faint song she had no idea where it stemmed from, Marina slowly reached and touched his heart. Her fingertips awoke all colors of the rainbow inside him, and she saw the light rivers mingle and create new shades inside him and clear the black away. Her own golden heart dissolved into dust and moved down her arm and into him, forming his heart once more. He was complete and perfect. As a white, world-changing pain overtook her, she exhaled, releasing the tides of time once again, and offering her life up for his.

Mitsuhide startle-awoke and tried to take a breath, but found it impossible. Throwing the pistol away and standing up, he felt like he was choking, like someone had tied a thick rope around his neck and was not allowing air to pass through. Something was eating him raw from inside! He desperately clawed his throat to help, but nothing seemed to work. He panicked and fell on the ground trying to cough. He opened his mouth wide to suck in air, but black pus came out of it instead, in long projectiles of vomit. He stayed like this, sickened to his core, expelling evil, until he passed out from exhaustion and blinding pain on the floor.

Come morning, he groaned and opened his eyes to look around. He knew where he was. He remembered what had happened. But that was not all that had changed. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror, dusting mortality away by a swift move of his hand. Where a hateful, bowing traitor that had no honor used to be, now stood a proud elf king, filled with the will to rule and keep the cosmos safe. His silver hair, created by the finest moonlight gathered from fairy maidens, was decorated by his father’s Dark crown of Mist and shadows. His white alabaster and mother-of-pearl skin encased power unmet by any foe. He felt his roots go deep, pierce the earth’s core and enter all realms. He felt his soldiers awake inside streams, planets, mountains, tree trunks, comets, volcanoes and clouds. He felt his followers rejoice knowing their king was alive and well. He felt their powers combine and come back to him to reinforce him. He closed his eyes and shifted through all human dreams, able to see the monsters lurking now and to send protectors to all unmanned gates. He found the tower, His tower, and reclaimed the throne, his mind more powerful than ever. A true king feared, but mostly loved, by all realms!

He looked on the bed and found his mother’s ring. With bloody tears in his golden eyes, now shining brighter than any sun that had ever existed, he wore it and Marina’s scent of cinnamon and caramel came to embrace him. His lips smiled as his heart momentarily spiked in pain. Looking at where her body used to lie, he found only fleeting remnants of burnt flesh. He caressed the empty shadow. His love… His only one… His secret queen, born out of fog and rainwater, out of black and purple fur. He kissed the ring and stood proud, knowing that her heart would beat next to his for all eternity. Knowing that, when the time came, he would peacefully die and look for that sweet girl with the chocolate eyes again, for one cannot spend eternity without love, for love is what it is all about… With that thought, he opened a portal and returned to his kingdom to exile the monsters. The fight was about to begin and Mitsuhide was eager to prove to her that he was the greatest hero of them all…

  
“”These are the works of man  
this is the sum of our ambition  
It would make a prison of my life  
if you became another’s wife  
With every prison blown to dust  
my enemies walk free  
I’m mad about you…  
I’m mad about you…  
And though you hold the keys to ruin  
of everything I see  
With every prison blown to dust,  
my enemies walk free  
Though all my kingdoms turn to sand  
and fall in to the sea  
I’m mad about you!  
I’m mad about you…””  
Sting  
**_  
~_** ** _THE END ~_**


End file.
